


Pleasures I Don't Comprehend

by hoosierbitch



Series: Trust and Consequence (the kink meme series) [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Gags, M/M, Multi, Paddling, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they are forced to perform a BDSM scene, Peter, Neal and El take stock of their situation. Peter asks Neal out to dinner. Only, they don't quite make it that far...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and posted in [collarkink on LJ](http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/) but has been edited since then.

_So the earth we scorch, we breathe,  
then find some comfort on our knees._  
From "Compromise" by The Indigo Girls

She'd thought, before, about having a threesome with Neal. Of course she had. She wasn't _blind_, she saw how Neal looked and how Peter looked at him and thought _maybe. Maybe in a few years when Peter trusts him, we'll all of us go dancing, Neal will sweep us off our feet, we'll take him to our bed._ She'd thought that she'd have to be the one to convince Peter - and, okay, that part ended up being true.

He admitted to having enjoyed the sex - scene - whatever, and he admitted to maybe possibly a little bit finding Neal attractive (he stared at Neal all the time, touched him, talked about his him incessantly - he was attracted). But he swore that he didn't want anything more than he already had.

Elizabeth wondered how many times Peter had done this while she hadn't noticed. Wondered at how easily Peter fooled himself into thinking he didn't want what he thought he didn't deserve. She thought about it, turned it over in her head, wrote out some pro/con lists (and a con/pro-convict list) and thought: maybe. Maybe.

The conversations they had the next few weeks were not as awkward as she had expected. Sure, Peter blustered through them uncomfortably, she gave in to her nervous giggles, they both blushed until their cheeks hurt. But it was okay. It wasn't like Peter had been hiding some secret desire from her the last ten years, he just hadn't known that he had those desires. He was as confused as she was. They were able to work through it together. They went online and watched some porn - men and women being spanked and shocked and tied up.

"Do you want to do that to me?" She asked. He gave it a full moment of consideration, and she wondered which answer she expected. Which answer she wanted.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I think the reason I liked it so much was because he was so into it. And I felt so...powerful, being able to give him that. To make him lose control like he did." She tried to imagine Neal losing control and couldn't.

They experimented a lot. In bed. And that was awkward. She discovered that she did not, under any circumstances, enjoy being held down or restrained in any way. Their attempt at spanking ended in gales of laughter and Peter eating her out, so it could have gone worse, but still. She kept walking in on Peter watching the porn on his own. Or staring off into space, his cock growing hard, thinking about what he'd done to Neal. What he wanted to do to Neal.

She thought about Neal, who hadn't come over once for dinner since the incident, Neal who flirted with her and confided in her and who adored Peter so innocently. She missed him. He made her laugh, he made Peter smile, he was one of the most alive people Elizabeth had ever met.

"If you had never met me," she finally worked up the nerve to ask, "do you think you could be happy with Neal?"

When he said no she almost cried again with relief. "The man I am now, the man that might have a chance with Neal Caffrey, I owe to you. If I had never met you I'd be so boring he'd never have given me a second look. Elle, you had to ask me out yourself because I was so nervous and clueless I put you under surveillance instead of calling you up over the phone. "

"Do you think," she said, "that you could be happy with Neal now?" Don't you leave me for him, she didn't say, because Neal has had Peter's complete attention for the last seven and a half years, before Peter even realized that sex could be part of the equation. Don't you leave me for him, she didn't say, because she knew Peter would choose her and wonder about what could have been for the rest of his life.

"No," Peter said, and she thought you don't know, you don't know that before she interrupted.

"Do you think you would be happy if you had both of us?" And when he looked at her she knew her lists had added up right. "Okay," she said. "See how Neal feels about this. If he wants you. If he wants us. Let's give it a go," she said.

"Don't you leave me for him," she couldn't help but say late at night after a shared bottle of wine, and he made love to her (kissing _I promise_ into her skin) until she believed him.

**

It was three weeks before Peter made his move. Three careful, agonizing weeks of Peter being considerate and solicitous and awkwardly kind. Neal had half-convinced himself that he'd made Peter's invitation up, his offer of something more, back when Neal had been raw and desperate in Peter's arms. He'd dismissed it as pity by the time Peter finally asked him out. Thought that Peter had swept the whole thing under the FBI's stained rug and come to his senses, remembered that he was happily married to a wonderful woman and enjoyed his frighteningly normal life.

But - he hadn't been lying. Hadn't forgotten his offer. He'd just been waiting. Probably out of some misguided courtesy, trying to give Neal time for his back to heal and for distance to dull the humiliation, the pain. It didn't. Every time the metal of the FBI standard-issue chairs pressed against his back (covered in a salve, wrapped in cloth) he shivered. Whenever he sat, his ass (bruises still fading after his 5-day leave) ached. _Neal_ ached. Neal _wanted_.

So it was a pleasant surprise when Peter worked up his nerve and asked him out to dinner. "I made reservations at that Japanese place you like," Peter told him at 3 o'clock on a Friday, _apropos_ of nothing. "The one with the koi pond? If you want to go."

Neal twirled his hat around a finger a few times before replying. "Are you asking me out on a date, Special Agent Burke?"

"No," was the immediate and gruff reply. "Not unless you want to, I mean - "

"Peter. You are no longer in middle school. Cowboy up and ask me out like a man."

Peter sighed. "You've been waiting a while to use that one, haven't you?"

"Yes."

Peter fidgeted. "So. Is that - is that a yes to dinner?"

"Elizabeth's right," Neal informed him. "You are utterly rubbish at this sort of thing." He grinned at Peter's surprised expression. "She called me last night to talk. How do you think I knew to wear my nice suit? Reservations at 6 don't give us time to go back to our respective homes and change clothes, now, do they?"

Peter glowered at him and walked back to his office. On his desk, in a beautiful vase, was a bouquet of origami flowers and a note that read (in calligraphy, of course) "Japanese is perfect."

*

At 4 o'clock Neal caught him in an empty hallway by the bathrooms. Pressed him against the wall underneath the camera, one hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, the other sliding under his coat to feel the muscles of his back (he was nothing if not an opportunist, nothing if not greedy for pleasure).

"Jesus, Neal! Not here! There are cameras, and people, and our _boss_ \- "

"You're my boss," Neal murmured, and laughed when Peter stilled. "I just wanted to ask you a question. About our 'date' tonight."

"Most people don't need to grab someone's ass to ask them a question."

"You like that I'm grabbing your ass, don't complain."

"What's the question, Caffrey?"

Neal stepped back right before the camera whirred, turning back in their direction. "Is there anything I should bring?"

Peter's brow furrowed. "We're going out to dinner. You don't need to bring a hostess gift."

"I'm surprised you know what that is. No, I mean for - for after. I - I assume you'll be coming over after dinner?"

"I should have known you'd put out on the first date."

"This is hardly our first date. Hey - " he said quickly, as he saw Peter's expression change. "I'm not talking about the Edwards case. We go out together all the time. Half the office thinks we're dating. Christ, you pulled my chair out for me last week!"

"Well - I - "

"You're a gentleman, Peter," he purred. "And I like that about you. I'm just saying that if dinner goes well and you decide to come over afterwards to play, are there any toys you'd like to have available? There's a store with a more than adequate selection within my radius." He licked his lips. "I can get you whatever you want."

"I'm sure," Peter replied, after a lengthy pause, "that whatever you have will be perfectly adequate."

"I don't have anything," was Neal's honest response. Peter raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't have any of the stuff I owned before I went to prison. You know that. Kate probably took it all. Either that, or it's sitting in a box in the basement somewhere..."

"I think I would have noticed if kinky sex toys had turned up on any evidence invoices."

"So. The question remains." They stepped away from each other and acted casual as someone walked past them to the restroom. Neal siddled back up to him quickly enough and spoke quietly in his ear - not a whisper, of course not, that would be too easy, but almost conversationally - "what do you want to do to me? You want to gag me, Peter? Or do you want to be able to hear me scream? You can spank me again, I want you to, I could buy you another paddle. Or you could use your belt, or your hands. Maybe you'd put some nipple clamps on me. Tight. Too tight. What about handcuffs? I guess you could just use yours - "

The breath huffed out of him as Peter slammed him against the wall. "Unless you want me to fuck you right here, right now, you better stop talking."

"What if that is what I want?" Neal moaned, licking his lips, desperate to rub against the thigh Peter had pressed so tantalizingly close to him, but the camera had another four seconds to go. Right now they simply looked like two men having an argument. Two seconds. They waited for the _whir_ and then Peter was pressing against him, his thigh hard against Neal's cock, and he whined as he went up on the balls of his feet, rocking himself against Peter. "Fuck. You want it so bad."

"Want you," Neal gasped, fingers clutching at Peter's awful suit.

"What do you want, Neal? Do you want me to - to - " Neal could practically feel the blush radiating from Peter's cheek. "Do you want me to spank you again?" Neal nodded, frantically, eyes flickering between the camera and the bathroom door and a drop of sweat on Peter's temple. "I think I'll use my hand to warm you up. And then paddle you until you come for me." One of Peter's hands squeezed Neal's ass, then moved to press the seam, and Neal cursed the tight fit of Byron's pants, rubbing himself forward against Peter, then pressing back. "Then I'm going to fuck you. So pretty - "

They heard the click of the bathroom door opening and jumped apart. The woman (Eileen from accounting, Neal noted) raised an eyebrow but walked past.

"You've got an hour left of work," Peter told him, the heartless bastard. "Then we're going shopping. Dinner can wait." Then he left Neal in the hallway, out of breath, hard, and hungry.

*

Peter had never been to a sex store before, and his embarrassment was painfully obvious. Neal, almost unconsciously, reached for his hand. "Sorry," he said, when Peter looked at him, surprised and he realized what he was doing.

"No," Peter said, taking his hand. "Thanks."

Neal led him quickly into the store and past the displays at the front. No need to scare Peter away. The paddles were in the back, hanging on the wall. Peter moved towards them slowly, almost in a trance. He picked up a few different kinds. Thin leather straps, floggers, paddles with words on them, riding crops.

"What do you like?" Neal asked him.

"Don't know," he said shortly. "Elizabeth and I never got into any of this stuff."

Neal paused. "But she is okay with you playing with me?"

"Yeah. We talked."

"And is she...she doesn't want to play?"

"She does," Peter said. "But I - I want." He put his hands on his hips and Neal tried not to drool thinking about how badly he wanted to bite the flesh under Peter's hands. "I need to figure out what this is. What I want with you."

Neal grinned. "Well, I better do all that I can to make this night...memorable."

Peter stepped up closed to the wall and pulled one down. He looked at Peter's strong hands cradling a thick leather paddle and his breath caught in his throat. Peter's palm fit firmly around the handle, the leather looked smooth under Peter's fingers. He was stroking the leather. "Buy that," Neal said. "The one you're holding now."

"No whips, though," Peter said, with a haunted look in his eye. Neal - who had been looking forward to hearing the crack of it behind him again, the bite of it, the sharpness - did not protest.

They skipped over the dildos and plugs, but picked up a box of restraints. Neal saw Peter lingering in front of the display of gags and came to stand behind him, resting his chin on Peter's shoulder. "You said I could gag you," Peter said. "You sure?" Neal pressed his erection against Peter in answer.

"Anything."

"That's not good enough, Neal."

"You want me to talk dirty to you about it while we're still in the store?"

"No!" Came the unexpectedly heated reply. "I want you to be honest with me. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to do anything you don't want. Christ, I'm already your boss, I - "

"Peter," Neal said clearly. "The only way I'm going to have any kind of conversation with you about the power differential between us and any potential consent issues that may result from that is if you tie me up first and _make me_."

Neal had never seen anyone's eyes actually darken with arousal before. This thing he had with Peter was teaching him all kinds of new things.

"Pick out the gag you want," Peter told him. "Quickly."

Neal grabbed two. A ball gag to muffle any screams, and a spider gag, because the idea of Peter fucking his helpless mouth, using him like a toy, made him salivate.

The man behind the counter didn't bat an eye at the purchases, just told them about the specials on lube while Neal handed over a credit card. Neal added some to the pile. Peter was going to fuck him. He was so hard - had been half-hard since Peter had asked him out to dinner - that he almost rubbed himself against the counter to get off. Peter Burke (his treacherous, unhelpful mind repeated) was going to fuck him.

*

Peter seemed less than happy as he drove them to June's. "Don't think I didn't notice that the name on that credit card was not Neal Caffrey."

"Check your pocket," Neal told him.

Peter shook his head as he pulled the offending card out of his breast pocket. "Still not funny."

"Hilarious. I promise this is the only purchase on there. I didn't want this purchase to be on any accounts that the FBI might be watching. Unless you want them checking those security tapes the next time I'm framed for someone else's ridiculous crimes?"

"Henry Miller?" Peter replied, looking at the name on the card after putting the car in park in front of June's. "Really?"

"Peter," came Neal's breathless reply. "Can we do the witty small talk later? I'm about to come all over a pair of very expensive pants."

*

They practically sprinted up to the loft. Neal noted with relief that June was out to dinner and had dismissed the staff.

There was an awkward moment when they got to the bedroom. Neal was about to take his shirt off when he realized Peter was standing just inside the door, the bag in his hand, still fully dressed. "Are you okay with this," Peter asked him. "Are you sure?"

"Are you?" Neal asked him. Because at the end of the day Peter was a married man, and Neal was a felon.

"I want this," Peter responded. "But if you're doing this because - because you're playing me, or if you're still shaky after what happened with Edwards - "

Neal undid the last button on his shirt and slipped it off. He stripped his undershirt off slowly, running his hands down his bare chest, over his nipples, over his bellybutton, then reached for the belt on his pants.

"Safe word's red," he said. "Green means go. Yellow's a warning. Not stop, not bad, just to be careful. Say 'color' if you want me to tell you how I feel." He pulled his belt from its loops and held it out to Peter. The fingers of his free hand teased at the button of his slacks. "I'm not playing you, Peter." He sighed with relief as he unzipped his pants and started stroking his erection. "I'll trust you to stop if I say red if you trust me to know what I want.

"I want _you_," he said after another moment of silence. "In case you were wondering."

"Green," Peter said, as he stepped forward, wrapped his strong hand around Neal's head, and kissed him. "Green, green, green."

"You taste like horrible FBI coffee," Neal told him when they pulled apart to breathe.

"So do you," Peter whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter knew what he wanted. "Take your boxers off. But I don't want you to touch yourself."

Neal finished stripping quickly, and then hesitated. "Do you want me to kneel?"

"No. Come here." He ran a thumb over Neal's lower lip and then, giving in, pressed it inside. Neal licked it, bit it gently, sucked it like he was dying for Peter's cock. "I'm going to spank you with my hand, now. Is that okay?"

"Green," Neal mumbled around his finger.

Peter went and sat on the couch, pulling Neal behind him with a hand wrapped around his neck. "Across my lap, pretty boy." Neal hurried to obey, but still somehow making it look graceful. His held his hands clasped before him and rested the weight of his torso on his forearms, ass tilted up and waiting for Peter.

He wanted to bite the full curve of Neal's ass, so he did. Until he held Neal's flesh between his teeth, until Neal whined. He left an imprint on Neal's right cheek, a wet, red circle. Then, he started smacking Neal's ass.

It was, impossibly, better than he remembered. He could feel the impact on his palm and see the skin redden (so close, he had Neal so close to him). The skin turned pink, first, in uneven blotches. Then a red to match the blush spreading down from his shoulders. He hit Neal until his palm ached and Neal was slumped forward, his arms splayed to frame the sides of his face, cock rubbing against Peter's leg with each thrust. Peter could feel the precum soaking through his pants, feel the hot line of Neal's cock with each new smack.

"You've made a mess on my pants, Caffrey." He sounded hoarse, already. Strange to himself. But this - this power - felt natural, comfortable, familiar. "Get on your knees in front of me, and lick your mess off my leg."

Neal thrust one more time against his leg, and, with a surprised cry, came. Peter spanked him through his orgasm quickly, as hard as he could, anything to make Neal keep writhing the way he was across his lap.

"Oh Neal, Neal, Neal," Peter said with disappointment when he finally finished. "You just can't control yourself, can you? Do you like it when I tell you what to do? Hmm? Well, you weren't supposed to come yet." Neal, lying limply across his lap, at his mercy, whimpered. "Now clean it up before I punish you for your mistake."

Watching Neal Caffrey lick his cum off the couch, and then off Peter's leg, was almost too much. Peter grabbed his cock tightly through his pants. He didn't want to come. Not yet. He had _so many_ things he wanted to do to Neal. He thought of the porn he and El had watched, and how it paled in comparison to the man on his knees in front of him.

Neal - no longer graceful - kneeling on the floor at his feet, holding onto Peter's knees to keep himself upright, was as beautiful as the Goya they'd recovered the week before, the Klimpt he'd suspected Neal of stealing in '04, more beautiful than anything Peter'd ever owned before. He gripped his cock firmly while Neal finished licked the semen off his slacks with kitten-licks that warmed his leg.

"Go to the bed and prepare yourself," he said after giving Neal a moment of rest.

"Can I use lube?" Neal asked. Peter grabbed Neal's right hand and sucked the pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them wet. The last time he done something like this, he'd been licking away Neal's cum - now he just tasted skin, salt and Neal.

"No. Use that. Go slow." Neal hesitated. "Color?" Peter asked.

"Yellow," he said, looking up at Peter with worried eyes.

"I don't care," he growled, pushing Neal towards the bed. "I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers, spread them as wide inside you as you can, until you're hard again. But they won't be enough, will they? Not nearly as good as my cock's going to be, filling you up." Neal fell back on the bed and Peter wanted to mark the long, clean lines of his body so badly he almost didn't notice that Neal was shaking with fear now as much as arousal. His hands were in a defensive position. Defending himself against Peter, he realized, who was looming over him still fully dressed.

He checked himself. "Try. If it hurts too much I'll give you the lube. I will. Okay?" Neal nodded and spread his thighs open, his long fingers ghosting over his hole. "Only I get to hurt you tonight," Peter reminded him.

Nodding again Neal started to fuck himself open for Peter. He twisted on the bed until he got the angle right, then pressed one of his long fingers inside. He went slowly, slow enough Peter suspected it was all a tease except when he pushed a second finger inside himself his face started to crease with discomfort. "Stop," Peter told him.

"No," Neal told him, worry evident in his voice. "I can do it, I can, I can be good - "

"I told you to stop." Neal pulled his fingers out with a wince and then rolled onto his stomach. He was getting ready to be punished, Peter realized. He let Neal stay that way as he went and got the lube from the bag because he liked the view. Neal's ass wasn't purple yet, like he'd seen it before, but it would be soon. It was a cherry red that faded down his thighs and over his hips. He could see the imprints of his fingers around the edges.

"You did good," he told Neal as he sat beside him on the mattress. "You tried." Neal's breath hitched and he seemed to be steeling himself against whatever Peter saw fit to give him. "You tried," Peter repeated. "Just what I wanted." Then he slicked up two of his fingers and thrust them inside Neal's hole.

He was so tight Peter couldn't imagine how he was ever going to fit his cock in there. But so hot around his fingers that he couldn't imagine not fucking Neal, his tight hole, stretching it out, opening him up just for Peter.

Soon Neal starting pushing back, rocking his ass back onto Peter's hand, his body undulating with each thrust. Peter was not going to last. He needed to come. "Go get the gag, Neal. I'm going to fuck your mouth."

Neal stumbled off the bed to grab the spider gag, wrestling it out of its box. Lube glistened on his thighs and Peter idly imagined it was his cum dripping out of Neal. Neal handed him the spider gag and Peter stared at it for a moment, wishing that it had come with instructions. He worked it out quickly enough, though, his fingers pressing the metal circle into Neal's mouth, tucking the hooks behind his cheeks, fastening the leather straps behind his head.

He kissed Neal, then. Licked around the metal hooks, traced the circle behind Neal's teeth. Every time he thrust his tongue into Neal's mouth, Neal tried to kiss him back, licking at his tongue, welcoming it, bathing it. He moaned helplessly. Unable to talk, he let his body speak for him.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed and Neal shuffled into position between his thighs. Peter undid his pants and took his cock out. It was wet with precum and fully erect. Peter grinned when Neal's eyes widened comically as he found out the size of it. He wiped the precum off on Neal's cheek before starting.

He let Neal set the pace at first. Gave him time to get used to the weight of Peter on his tongue, trying to suck without using his lips. He took Peter into his mouth until he gagged and then took more. He had a little over half Peter's length when Peter ran out of patience and thrust forward. He ran his hands through Neal's hair, got a solid grip on the back of his head, and fucked Neal Caffrey's pretty little mouth.

Neal was fully hard again, rocking his hips forward against the air. "You can rub yourself against the bed," Peter told him. "But don't come." The vibrations of Neal's moans as he moved forward to press his cock against the mattress were almost too much for Peter to handle.

It wasn't the best blowjob he'd ever gotten. It couldn't be, with Neal's mouth immobilized the way it was. But Peter had never been blown by someone who couldn't stop him from fucking all the way into their throat before, someone who would gag until they couldn't breathe and then come back eagerly for more. But every time Neal pulled back, Peter let him. Gave him a breath, a moment to recover, and as soon as he was ready Peter thrust all the way back in. It was heaven.

"If you don't want me to come all over your face, tap me on the leg with your right hand." Neal closed his eyes, tilted his face up, and Peter painted his face with his cum. Stripes of it over Neal's eyes, in his open mouth, on his sharp cheekbones. He stroked himself until it hurt and then wiped his cock off against Caffrey's cheek. "Perfect," he murmured.

He took the gag out and massaged Neal's jaw gently. "You okay?" Neal nodded and pressed his cock against Peter's leg, reminding Peter that he still had unfinished business.

The paddle was still waiting in the bag by the door. He hadn't forgotten. He scooped up as much of his cum as he could off Neal's face and held his fingers in front of Neal's mouth. "Clean it up." Neal sucked his fingers like he was trying to prove that he could do this without the gag, take Peter's fingers in all the way and use his lips and make it good for Peter, he could. Peter's cock jolted almost painfully at Neal's earnest desperation.

Peter got a damp cloth from the bathroom and cleaned Neal's face as best he could. "Neal," he said, in as even a tone as he could manage, thinking about what he was about to do. "I want you to go get the paddle out of the bag. And then I want you to kiss it."

Neal closed his eyes and swayed for a moment. His fingers shook as he looked through the bag, the rustling of the plastic a shaky punctuation to his movement. He lifted it up and held the thick black paddle before his clever lips, placing a chaste kiss to the handle. It was about a foot long, maybe three inches wide, and Neal kissed delicately up the length of it.

"Lick it," Peter ordered.

Neal's clever tongue soaked the leather quickly. He ran it down the polished length until it gleamed, the sides until they dripped, wrapped his lips around the handle and moaned. "Both sides," Peter admonished, and Neal - eyes closed, cock dripping - obeyed.

His lips were rubbed raw when Peter finally told him he could stop. "Over the couch," he instructed.

"Can I ask for something?"

"Yes," Peter replied hastily, "whatever you want."

"I - I'd like to be tied. So that I don't have to think about getting away. I...I like it when I don't have a choice. It makes it easier."

Peter's cock was swiftly becoming fully erect again. Neal's voice was scraped raw from taking Peter's cock, his body angled submissively towards Peter, his eyes lowered and shy. He was pretty sure it wasn't an act, but even if it was - god.

He tilted Neal's head up to make eye contact and kissed him briefly. "Thank you for asking." Neal nodded eagerly and pressed the full length of his body against Peter, who was still in his suit. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out his handcuffs. "Will these work?" Peter decided that Neal's sharp inhale, the way he pressed even closer into Peter, counted as a 'yes'.

Peter ran his hands idly down Neal's back, to cup his ass (Neal hissed when Peter squeezed it, when he ran his fingernails over it sharply, when he pressed into Neal's hole with the tips of three fingers). Then he cuffed Neal to one of bedposts.

This paddle was longer and harder than the one he'd used in Edwards' club. It didn't have the lines of studs, but it was heavier. When he smacked it against Neal's ass the imprint was immediately visible, Neal's response noticeably louder.

"What are you doing to me," Peter murmured with a hit to the right cheek. "I never wanted to do this to anyone before." Neal bit down on the pillow in front of him to muffle the cry when Peter tried a hard smack to his thighs. "But you - you want it so badly." Three hits in quick succession and Neal tried to pull away, to turn to his left, away from Peter. Two hits to his left cheek solved that problem. He varied the pace to keep Neal off-balance, keep him guessing.

Quicker than Peter expected, Neal's ass was covered in welts and he was sobbing. His breath came in shuddering bursts and his elegant fingers were white-knuckled as he clutched the bedposts. When Peter pushed inside him with three fingers and spanked him with his free hand, Neal _keened_. Every time he asked Neal for a color, Neal told him green. "Don't come," Peter ordered. "If you come, I'll stop, swear to god. Make you wait all week before I come back and fuck you." He found Neal's prostate and rubbed it mercilessly, pausing just long enough to finally strip completely and grab the lube again.

"Neal, where are the condoms?"

"Don't," Neal whined, "I'm clean. Want to feel you come inside me."

"Fuck, yes. Although you really should ask if I'm clean, too" Peter said, nudging the head of his cock against Neal's hole.

"I know you are. I hacked your medical records - oh, fuck, _Peter_ \- " He pushed further in. "Like that, yes, there - oh god - "

It wasn't enough. Even the blinding sensation of Neal's ass around him, the heat and pressure (_so much tighter than Elizabeth_, he tried not to think, _so different_). He thrust harder, pushing Neal up the bed until he was on his knees bracing himself on the headboard to keep from being shoved into the wall. Peter was spread over him, just enough taller than Neal that he could fuck him from behind and bite savagely into his neck at the same time.

Neal was wild underneath him. Trying to rub his cock against the blanket and push back against Peter, even though it had to hurt (so, so tight, so hot). Tangled syllables spilled out of his mouth.

It wasn't enough.

Reaching underneath Neal's body, Peter grabbed Neal's cock. And squeezed. Hard. Every muscle in Neal's body seemed to tense - it hurt, it hurt both of them, Peter couldn't move Neal was so tight. He scraped his fingernail down the length of Neal's cock, pressed his thumb into the slit at the head, and almost laughed with triumph when he whispered "come" into Neal's ear and felt him scream. Perfect.

He didn't even need to move. The fluttering spasms of Neal orgasming around him was the best thing he'd ever felt in his entire life. He began thrusting again, brutally hard. Neal scrambled underneath him "too much, too much, Peter - " he covered Neal's mouth with one hand, squeezed his balls with the other, and came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel is here: [i thought i was someone else (someone good)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/81107) If you're reading through the series, please consider reviewing each individual part! it would make my day. :-)


End file.
